


Pinch

by visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Series: Shifting Alliances 'Verse [5]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: Just a silly little peek at  "Shifting Alliances" Miguel and Ryan on St. Patrick's Day. (Originally written and posted elsewhere back in 2006.)
Relationships: Miguel Alvarez/Ryan O'Reily
Series: Shifting Alliances 'Verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862302
Kudos: 8





	Pinch

**Author's Note:**

> Established relationship set in my Shifting Alliances AU, though really it's so short and silly it could almost take place in any weird AU version of Oz where these two hooked up.
> 
> Warning: I feel I should always warn for inappropriate and problematic language, given how they talked on this show.

Ryan slid into the private room, secretively led there by Miguel. The hard tweak of fingers on his flesh the second the door closed, a pinch on his hip, brought up conflicting instincts. Flinch. Or punch. One was old and real, and the other had been learned, beaten into him by necessity. Ryan tamped down on both, the former urge so old, weak, and used to being ignored that he could bury it easily, the latter something he thought he'd never need again with Miguel. 

Ryan settled for narrowed eyes and a tiny movement. Barely noticeable, just enough to lean him away from the shorter man. That was punishment enough. Except that it punished both of them. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ryan asked a question that for once he didn't already know the answer to, as he faced Miguel in the small room. His gato was fucking crazy sometimes and kept him on his toes. But it was in a way that didn't hurt and endanger his survival, just the old human way of trying to live with someone else and all their quirks so close to you, inside you.

"You ain't wearing green." Miguel answered easily, like he knew exactly what he was doing and it made perfect sense. His lazy smirk just added to Ryan's annoyance. 

Didn't _look_ batshit insane. But then, Ryan's boy had practice with that, so you never knew. "Have you been sampling the pharmaceuticals again?"

Miguel rolled his eyes. "Fuck, hermano, do you even know what day it is?"

Oh.

"It's St. Patrick's Day. I'm the Irish one, _hermano_. You don't have to wear green if it's in your blood." Ryan turned on his own grin and easy charm, covering with quick blarney in honor of the holiday. 

He hadn't thought of wearing green at all, really. That was juvenile shit. This was Oz, not the neighborhood bar. Revelry and drunkenness and stupid tradition like that didn't really fit inside here. Ryan's mistake had been in forgetting how Miguel brought a spark of that real old life outside back in here, let him taste it. "Besides, I'm always wearing green." He gestured with his right hand, tiny green shamrock tattoo standing out on his skin. Green and red. The blarney and blood that made up his life.

"Suuure." Miguel drawled in pure disbelief. 

Miguel never fell for his bullshit anymore. It would be dangerous if Ryan had needed that ability to steer him, to trick and lie to him. But he didn't need that with Miguel anymore. He was one person Ryan didn't have to play and guide, that he could trust and be real with. And that fact was better than green beer and a cheesy button that said 'Blow Me, I'm Irish' ever could be. 

Ryan raked his gaze slowly down Miguel's compact, fit frame. All butterscotch skin and gang tattoos peaking out from his soft blue scrubs. "You're not wearing green, either. What you are going to be is black and fucking blue if you even try fucking pinching me again." Another lie, with the easy to read tell of his grinning eyes.

Miguel saw through it like Ryan knew he would, smirk turning into that low rumbling laugh, as he lifted up his shirt in a move that dripped with cocky confidence.

It took a second before Ryan registered anything beyond that nicely defined stomach. When the small sticker caught his eye, Ryan couldn't help his own laugh, reaching out to rub his thumb over the shiny green shamrock, grazing plenty of warm skin along with it. "Where the hell did you get that?" 

The sticker rode low on that tight body, inches to the left of Miguel's navel. Ryan's hand drifted, light graze around the warm sensitive inward dip, meant to tickle. A gentler payback for the pinch. He felt the tremble of Miguel's abdomen as Miguel obviously fought his body's reaction to the tiny torture.

"Swiped it from Sister Pete's office." He dropped his shirt back down.

Wasn't getting away that easily. Ryan took a step closer, hand still on Miguel's firm body, underneath the cover of clothes, slipping around to grip Miguel's hip, pull him close. "And why exactly did you do that? Stealing from a nun, gato....that's a trip straight to hell." All tease and taunt, just because he could. 

"Need to keep you company there, don't I?" Miguel flowed with the movement, like he didn't even need the encouragement, slipping an arm over Ryan's shoulder to bring that rough voice gusting right across his lips. "Gotta wear green. It's the rule, ain't it?" 

All that warm skin slid under his palm as Ryan grazed the tiny slick patch of the sticker again. "Gotta follow the rules." Ryan's grin almost brushed against Miguel's mouth. Not kissing. Yet. Just a damp _almostthere_ tease. 

"This why you pulled me away? To show me your _shamrock_?" Ryan used all his smirking innuendo, knowing it amused Miguel, turned him on.

"Gotta kiss someone Irish." Miguel's other arm slipped over his shoulders, even as Ryan's other hand found the warm sharp curve of a hip, pulling Miguel impossibly closer to him with both hands now.

"I...don't remember that rule." Ryan kept his voice pure low seduction, matching Miguel.

"Mm-hmm." Miguel hummed with a slow nod, as Ryan's eyes were drawn to the soft tuck of Miguel's bottom lip into his mouth. "It's lucky."

_Bullshit. Blarney._

It certainly wasn't the kind Ryan was going to disagree with, though. 

The tease slipped into a hot embrace so easily, lips closing the scant distance between them like it wasn't even real. Could feel something better than a grin against his mouth with the deep press of Miguel's. Hot tongues darting out to play, leaving words behind. The first kiss was short, grabbing him even more surely than the hands on the back of his neck. The play of fingers raised the soft hair there, like the build of electricity. 

Knew it would only be the first kiss as he pulled back with another dart of his tongue. "If you think that's lucky..." Ryan filled in the rest with the suggestive buck of his hips against Miguel's body.

**  
End


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